Page 91 of The Woman in the Hollow
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Hazel
Considering the garden center had become a second home to me since I started there, it felt oddly wrong to be driving there.
Maybe it was because it was the one thing popping the perfect bubble of domesticity Dante and I’d been enjoying at his stupidly gorgeous house.
The whole day had been a bit of a blur, from waking up alone to having sex in the kitchen, to watching him work out and talking about things like the garden center and his house. Almost as if I was going to be a part of it.
The scary thing was, my heart ached for that to be a reality. For there to be some sort of life where I could wake up in his arms, have him cook for me, go to work together, come home to enjoy each other’s bodies and company, to be a part of his family, to build a life and future.
If Dante were any other man, I doubt I’d have had any reservations about pursuing that if it was what we were both looking for.
But he wasn’t.
He was Dante Grassi.
Mafia capo.
He existed in a world that operated outside of the law.
And, hey, I wasn’t all ra-ra about law and order or anything. But I wasn’t sure I was someone who could hang her future on a man who might not be around.
Big Ed was dead.
Domenico had lost years to prison.
How could I take those chances?
Not just for myself, but for future children.
I shook my head, forcing those thoughts out of my mind.
No one was talking rings and gowns and binding contracts.
I was simply enjoying the attention of an interested man. Was that so bad?
I glanced down to where his big hand was holding my thigh as he drove.
No.
No, it wasn’t bad at all.
It was pitch black out when we reached DG Greens, but the lights were once again strung and working, giving the place a glow that could be either warm or eerie, depending on how you were looking at it.
Dante barely had my door open before I heard the first scream ripping through the night air.
We shared a look, knowing this was what people paid for, what they’d wanted us to create for them. It felt good to get things right.
“You alright?” Dante asked, his hand going to the small of my back as my gaze scanned the sights before us.
Maybe to him, I looked wide-eyed and uncertain. Like I was having flashbacks. In reality, I couldn’t help but see all the things that needed to be done. New stray bales needed to be cut open for the stuff your own scarecrows. Craft supplies had to be picked up from under the picnic tables. A bulb was out by the drink cart. A couple of teens looked like they were passingaround something in a circle that I imagined they weren’t old enough to be drinking.
“Yeah. I just see a few quick things I’d like to deal with,” I said.
Dante shook his head at me, but followed along as I got things into the order I preferred, ignoring the looks from the employees who probably wanted to know the story of my scratched-up face.
If someone was bold enough to ask, I would just say I fell in the woods. It wasn’t exactly a lie.
